


Heartbreaker

by doodleishere



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Emotional, F/F, Kisses, M/M, Making Out, Moon, PAGATHA, Sentimental, SnowBaz, agenny, because that's what my life has been like since wayward son came out, it sounds like agony, relationships, sun - Freeform, sure, the ship name is pagatha, um, uuuuuhhhh i don't know the ship name for penny x agatha, why not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:40:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24894043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doodleishere/pseuds/doodleishere
Summary: Penny and Simon find out that kisses come with emotional baggage.
Relationships: Penelope Bunce/Agatha Wellbelove, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 8
Kudos: 56





	Heartbreaker

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by the lines "I can't let you go / Separation brings us awfully close" from the song "Heartbreaker" by Bad Suns

**PENNY**

This isn’t like me.

I mean, let’s face it—I don’t really even know what’s _like me_ anymore. I took that trip to America with Simon and Baz, and I think we all came back a little worse for wear. I, for one, came back with an open space where a checkmark had previously been. It used to be checked off for Micah, a spot reserved and sorted and _done_ , but…yeah.

Now I’m sitting with Agatha.

On my bed.

And kissing her for what I think is the sixth time in a third as many weeks.

I don’t know if what we’re doing now fills in that spot. I’m being kissed, and I’m kissing back, and we’ve done this for weeks now, and I don’t know what we _are_. But that’s not a question I think I can even begin to figure out right now.

“Hey,” she mumbles against my lips. I guess she noticed I was zoning out. (I try not to zone out when we're doing this, but sometimes my brain gets a little overheated from the everything that's happening.) (Kissing Agatha is an exercise in trying not to self-destruct.)

“Hi,” I mumble back, pushing our mouths back together.

She tastes like strawberries. She’s tasted like it the last two times we’ve done this. I think it’s some kind of new chapstick she wears. I like it, whatever it is. And I like…doing this. Kissing her. And being able to do things like this:

I press my hand onto her thigh and feel her tremble under my fingers. Then I reach my other hand up to the back of her neck and pull her further into my mouth, and she makes this delicious noise that I’ve never heard anybody else make when I’m kissing them.

She tastes like strawberries, and I _like_ it.

I think I like her.

“Agatha,” I try to say, but it’s hard to say much of anything when she’s toying with the bottom of my shirt like she’s waiting for me to give her permission. (Micah never did that. He was a good bloke, I guess, but if he wanted my shirt to come off, it would be halfway gone before he’d let me say I’d prefer if it stayed on. Agatha’s waiting. She always waits. I like it.)

“Agatha,” I try again, and I manage to get it out this time.

“Mm?”

I want to ask her what in the name of Merlin we’re doing. I want to figure out what this is, if it fills in that newly empty spot in my life, if this is the thing that makes it all complete. (I don’t _do_ this. Kiss people with no plan as to what comes after. Or kiss girls at all.) But I don’t want to ruin this, so instead, I say, “You can take my shirt off, if you want to.”

She does.

**SIMON**

This isn’t like me.

It used to be, I think. But it hasn’t been me, not for months. All I’ve been for months is a deflated version of myself. Me but with the fire turned off. (I think that’s how Baz would describe me. He’s good with words, and he’s compared me to fire before, so I think I’m close. I _feel_ like a smoked-out fire. Have since I gave away my magic. Like—like I pushed my flame somewhere else.)

I’m lying in my bed.

Baz is with me.

And I’m letting him kiss me.

Nothing drastic, and not anywhere near my mouth—but, like, my fingertips and my knees and my ankles. Places that I can convince myself are further away than they actually are. Places that feel like distant islands, and I’m letting Baz visit, and it’s not smothering because it’s not, like, _close_.

He’s kissing me like he’s trying to map my body. Ankles to calves to knees to thighs to hips. I think he’s trying to hit every mole or freckle on the way. All I’ve got on are a dirty tee shirt and my pants, and he’s moved the hem of them down a bit so he can press against my hip bone with his mouth. ( _"Ankles to hips,"_ I'd said. _"Fingertips to elbows."_ And he'd looked like I'd told him I had the cure to vampirism tucked into my pockets.)

I know that he won’t go any farther unless I tell him he can. That he won’t move my shirt up without me making the first move. He’ll stay there, trapped from my waist down, and he'll look like I’ve given him the stars for letting him freeze there.

I reach a hand down and ruffle his hair; he brings his head up and presses his lips against each finger before finally looking at me. “Yes, love?”

 _Love_. The word makes something in my chest clench up, and I can’t speak for a few seconds. His hands are on the mattress on either side of me, and he’s looking at me, and he’s calling me _love_.

“You can take my shirt off,” I whisper. I won’t look away from him. _I won’t_. “If you want.”

He does.

**PENNY**

She’s almost too much. It’s like making out with the sun; I feel like she’s lighting me up every time she kisses me. I half want to check every spot she’s kissed me for sunburns. I’ve never felt like this before. Making out with Micah was—well, it was nice. And I definitely enjoyed it, and I was definitely attracted to him. But this is…this is something else entirely. Micah was never the _sun_.

She moves her mouth from my neck to ask, “Is that alright? I’ve not—you know, done this. Before you.”

Agatha Wellbelove has never made out with girls before me.

I’ve never made out with girls before her.

Finally, equal ground.

“It’s great,” I say, finding her eyes with my own. I could stare into them for a lifetime. I think I just might, but then she bends down and kisses my neck again, and I’m too busy looking at the back of my eyelids to look anywhere else.

I think I'd let her end me.

**SIMON**

He’s so much.

His lips are on my stomach, and I swear that it’s like I’m being kissed by the moon. He leaves cold spots in his wake, and I feel like he’s taking the air out of me every time he presses his mouth onto my body.

He’s on my stomach. Then my sides. Then he kisses the center of my chest before he moves to each pec.

It’s the shoulders that really get me. I don’t know why. But when he starts kissing my shoulders, I just feel something inside of me give way. Maybe this is what I needed: to feel him kissing me distantly before I could feel him kissing _me_ , you know?

You can’t hide from someone who’s kissing you. But if you let them kiss every part of you before they make it to your mouth, then there’s not really much left to hide.

“Baz,” I say, barely above a whisper. I don’t think he’d hear it if he wasn’t a vampire. (A vampire who doesn’t mind leaving behind other vampires to stay with me. A vampire with more patience than I’ll ever have.) (A vampire who kisses like he’s making up for the life neither one of us has anymore.)

“Yes, darling?”

First, it’s _love_. Now he’s calling me _darling_. You’d think he _wants_ me to combust—break apart, _go off,_ whatever—right here. Maybe this was his grand plan: get the Chosen One in his bed and then call him pet names until he just dies.

If he wanted to break my heart, I don't think there's anything I could do to stop him.

I reach for his face and move it closer until he’s above me, and his hands find support on the pillows on either side of my head. He's keeping his distance until I tell him he can close it. He’s so far away, but he’s actually so, so _close_. (I don’t know the last time I actually let him this close without trying to out run something else.) I let myself stare at him for a few seconds, drinking him in. My fingers are twirling in his hair, and he’s looking at me like he doesn’t expect a thing. Like I’ve given him more than enough.

I lean up and kiss him.

**PENNY**

I shut the door behind me as softly as I can and come face to face with Simon doing the exact same thing.

He’s in nothing but his underwear, and his wings and tail are still hidden by the spell I did a few hours ago. (Has it been that long? Did I really spend _hours_ in my room with Agatha Wellbelove? Did that happen?) He looks…flushed. And it looks like there’s these little marks on him, almost like—

I feel my face go hot. I probably look the exact same way underneath the shirt and the trousers. (Simon may not mind revealing exactly the nature of what he and Baz get up to in his room, but I’ve yet to tell Simon that any of this stuff is going on with Agatha, and I’m not starting right now.)

I let him walk through first and follow him to the kitchen where he pulls down two glasses and fills them with water before handing one to me. “Thanks,” I say, settling my arms against the counter. Then: “Everything good?”

Simon takes the opportunity to swallow down a few gulps before he smiles at me, and Merlin’s damn _beard_ , have I missed that smile. I try to think back to the last time I saw him smile at me like that before we lost our minds in America, and I…I can’t remember back that far. That’s a Baz-induced smile, I think. Or an _I’m okay right now_ kind of smile.

I don’t remember the last time they were stuck in his room for hours, either. I smile back.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “Yeah, Pen, everything’s good. You?”

 _I don’t know_ , I think about saying. _Being with Agatha is good. Not knowing what we are is not. Not knowing if you’ll be okay with me snogging your ex-girlfriend is not. But the snogging itself is absolutely phenomenal._ “Yeah,” I say back before taking another sip. “All good.”

Simon finishes off his glass and deposits it in the sink. Then he straightens up and walks back towards his bedroom, and I see that he’s got marks curving around his sides too. Waist, shoulders, neck…I glance down and see that there’s even some sprinkling his legs as well.

Did Baz kiss every inch of him?

Did Simon _let him_?

“Hey Simon,” I say, probably louder than I need to say it. He stops and turns back to me, raising his eyebrows as if to tell me to go on. I do after a deep breath. “How did you know that you liked Baz in _that way_?”

He cocks his head to the side like he does when he’s thinking sometimes, and then I see a small, gentle grin form on his lips. Haven’t seen that one in a long time either. “I didn’t know,” he says. “And then I kissed him. And I did.”

Like it’s that simple.

Like all it took was one kiss for all the years of following Baz around and needing to know his every move and driving me mad talking about him to start to make sense.

I shake my head. “One kiss,” I say, “and you find it all out.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Rest was all double-checking.”

Then he starts back to his room, but right before he opens up the door, he says just loud enough for me to hear, “I suggest doing the same with Agatha. Might help.”

All I can do is stare as he closes the door behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> i wound up in the ER a few days ago and have yet to get back into the swing of There'll Be Peace (When You Are Done) so this came out instead :)))))


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